Jack and Jill
by Chaotic Demon
Summary: Shawn and Gus take on the case of a copy-cat murderer. Unfortunately, the original case was never solved. Can Shawn solve both before it's too late?
1. I Think That Was Rhetorical

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

Inspired by reading way too much true crime.

I'll try to update this somewhat frequently.

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**Santa Barbara, 1986**

Shawn Spencer gulped rather loudly as he eyed the distance to the ground. Instinctively, his gazed moved to Bobbie's cast, stark white compared to the boy's ragged jeans and hospital-issue crutches. He inhaled slowly. This was such a bad idea. Still… He looked at the small crowd of onlookers surrounding the tree. If he could only make this jump without breaking anything, he would be a legend. Anyway, it wasn't like he was the first to attempt this. A voice in the back of his mind, far too similar to his father, spoke up. "If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?" He exhaled and closed his eyes. Only if he could do it better.

**Present Day**

An irate Burton Guster slammed open the door to the Psych office. "Shawn!" He slammed his sample case down on his best friend's desk and tried to contain his rage. "Do not call me on my office phone! I'll get in trouble!"

Shawn, who had been leaning back in his computer chair in order to properly enjoy his tropical smoothie, blinked up at his partner. "Dude, I only called you, like, two or three times," he replied, sitting up straight and removing his feet from the edge of the desk.

Gus' nostrils flared. "Ninety-seven times, Shawn."

"Don't be a pretty, pretty princess, Gus."

Burton raised a hand to cover his eyes and sighed. He could feel the familiar sensation of a headache coming on. "What was so important that you felt compelled to call me nearly a hundred times in one day? Your messages were incredibly vague."

Shawn's face took on an expression of utmost sobriety. "Why, I just wanted to see if you miss me as much as I miss you when we're apart." Here he clutched a hand to his chest and looked up at his friend with wide eyes and a pout.

"Shawn!"

He rolled his eyes and took on a normal expression. "Relax will you? The chief said to drop by her office at five for a new case."

Gus raised an eyebrow. "Why at five? That's still two hours away."

Settling back into his original position, Shawn responded, "She's busy right now. You know what that means, don't you?"

"She doesn't have time for your shenanigans?"

The fake psychic frowned. "Shenanigans? Really? Anyway, it means that this is something big. It will probably be horribly exciting." He stirred his drink with the straw for a moment. "You want some of this smoothie? They use real pineapple!"

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Review and I'll love you forever. 


	2. Are You Sure That's Not An Alias?

This chapter gave me so much trouble. By the way, Quackenboss is an actual last name. Also, you win a virtual pineapple smoothie if you know where "super special awesome" is from.

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The police station was swarming with activity. Crime scene photos were plastered all over a number of bulletin boards and detectives were shouting out instructions so quickly that Gus was amazed anyone heard them all. Apparently, Shawn was right when he said something big was going down.

"Hey, Buzz!" Shawn's voice rang out with a surprising amount of volume. McNab looked up from his study of some paperwork and gave a little wave. "What's up with all these photos everywhere? Isn't the chief worried about leaking details to the press?"

The officer's expression was torn between being happy to see his friend and grave because of the latest case. "Really," he began, "I don't think that's much of a problem. There's nothing here that you can't find in a library."

Shawn and Gus exchanged puzzled glances. This was unusual, to say the least. They gave a quick "See you later" to the cop and made their way to the chief's office, sidestepping hassled police all the way.

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As the clock struck five, Shawn flounced into the office followed by a considerably mellower Gus. "Hey, Chief," he chirped, barely acknowledging Juliet and Lassiter's presence as he came to rest in front of the desk. "You needed my super special awesomeness for something?"

Gus gave a brief nod to the two detectives as he, too, stepped up to the desk.

Chief Vick looked like she was fighting off a headache of Godzilla-like proportions as she gave the fake psychic a look. "Sit down, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster." As they settled themselves into the remaining two chairs, Karen handed them one of two files lying in the center of the desk. "The victim is Mary Decker. She was murdered three weeks ago."

Gus leaned toward his friend in order to see the now open file. On the first page was a photograph of a young woman; her blonde pixie cut contrasted with her bruised jaw and slashed throat.

Jules spoke up as they studied the picture. "She had slashes on her abdomen and stab wounds to her genitals."

"Postmortem," Lassiter grudgingly added.

Gus paled a little at their words. Shawn, however, raised a hand to his temple. "I'm sensing there was another victim."

The Chief gave a grim nod before handing him the remaining file and replying, "Today we found the body of Anne Quackenboss. She had the same bruising around the jaw and her throat was also slashed."

Burton quirked an eyebrow as if to say "Quackenboss? Really?" However, this moment ended rather abruptly as he tugged the file away from Shawn in order to see the photo. The image of the brunette's corpse, large portions of the lower body gouged out and intestines draped across the left shoulder like a shawl, sent him racing toward the bathroom.

Shawn blinked as he watched his friend go and then glanced at everyone's serious expressions. He had an idea of what was going on, but had to wait for Gus to get back first. He needed a ride home, after all.

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The next chapter is the amazing psychic vision. Hopefully, it will be out in a decent amount of time.

Reviews are cherished like children.


	3. Lions and Tigers and Housecats! Oh my!

The long awaited psychic vision! Yay!

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It took ten minutes for Gus to come back from the bathroom. He still looked a little pale, but had pulled himself together enough for Shawn to feel comfortable moving on. "Hey, Gus," he began, "Do you smell that?"

The Super Sniffer went to work. "What are you talking about?"

"I smell… Lasagna?"

The expression on Gus' face as he figured it out was laughable. "You're having a vision?"

Everyone in the room focused on the pseudo psychic as he seemingly surrendered himself to the spirits' whims. It was a convincing act, Shawn thought, even if Lassiter still seemed skeptical. He moved to hover over his friend's shoulder. "You're mad. I'm mad. We're all mad here," he managed to exclaim before he jerked to the floor by Juliet's chair.

She looked at him in surprise. "Shawn? Are you alright?"

"Meow." He rubbed his check against her knee.

"Spencer, what the hell are you doing?"

"Meow." He nudged her knee again. Jules giggled slightly and scratched him behind his ears. Shawn actually purred for a few moments before snapping himself into a standing position. Oh so slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Shawn!"

"Spencer!"

"Mr. Spencer!"

He continued undaunted. Shrugging of the garment, he threw it carelessly behind him. Suddenly, he shrieked in girlish manner before backpedaling into Lassiter's lap and burying his face in the detective's chest. Carlton, annoyed at having Shawn touch him under normal circumstances, was less than ecstatic about having the topless man cling to him. Face flushing in embarrassment, he pushed the psychic off of him.

As soon as he hit the floor, Shawn began to writhe. "I'm seeing a letter. It's written in red ink." He gasped and his body froze in a particularly convoluted position. "The return address. It's… It's from Hell." With these last words, he finally relaxed.

Silence permeated the office for a few moments before Gus spoke up, frowning in confusion. "Someone's copying Jack the Ripper?"

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Shawn stripping was not just for fan service. It was a reference to Jack the Stripper, who was another uncaught serial killer who preyed on prostitutes in London. I hope people aren't too disappointed that I decided to make the original case a real life one. I just thought it would be fun.

Review please.


	4. Calling All Celebrities

Another chapter! I know it's super short. Hopefully I can get another chapter up soon to make up for it.

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"If they already knew that, then why did they ask us to come down?" Gus questioned as they duo made their way out of the police station. "I mean was it just a test or something? Shawn?" He looked at his unusually quiet friend. "Shawn, are you alright?"

"Does anyone in your office have the Beachside Clinic on their route?" Shawn was staring at the open files while walking.

"I think Brady has it on his route. Why?"

"Do you think you could wrangle it away from him for a few days?"

Gus raised an eyebrow at his word choice. "I'm sure I could try. Why?"

Shawn glanced at his friend. "You mean you didn't notice?" he said, gesturing towards the files in his hands.

Gus glowered. "I'm sorry. I was too busy being nauseous." Shawn merely rolled his eyes and handed both files to the salesman. There, hidden behind the initial photos were both victims' phone records. Both had made and received several calls from the Beachside Clinic. "Shawn, don't you think this would be the first thing the police would investigate?"

"Are you blind? Look at the other numbers." Sure enough, there were several other common contacts of a more personal nature. "These two knew each other. The police are going to spend all their time investigating people like that artist. They won't look that deeply into the clinic until another victim turns up. They're probably satisfied with the cursory investigation. Now hurry up, will you? We've got places to be."

"Where are we going?"

"The library, obviously. By the way, I totally call Johnny Depp."

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If you don't get the Johnny Depp thing, watch "From Hell."

Review!


	5. Of Books and Numbers

Really, you should be glad I haven't updated in a while. I've been taking criminal justice courses and had to write a paper on Jack the Ripper in one. That's why you shouldn't torch me for the long wait.

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Anyone who knew Shawn would have been very surprised to see him in a library, of all places. For most people, this would be because they couldn't imagine him enjoying himself in a library. Gus, however, knew that this building allowed him to enjoy himself a little too much. The librarian hadn't taken too kindly to that book fort. Thankfully, Shawn's banishment was lifted a scarce few weeks before, so the duo was allowed to walk right in with little more than a nasty look from any employees who still remembered Fort Bibliotech.

Shawn silently motioned to Gus to follow him. The psychic led his friend to their destination by way of an extremely convoluted path. They wove through rows of books, backtracked several times, and circled the computers twice. Finally, after wandering through the adult section for several minutes, the two emerged at the true crime section.

"Let's see," Shawn muttered, searching for the appropriate books, "Manson, Bundy, Gacy, Rader… Ah! Here we go. Jack the Ripper." He promptly took several books off the shelves and sat down on the floor the read them.

Gus took one book and opened it, preferring to remain standing. Immediately, he found a problem with the investigation. "Uh, Shawn?"

"Yeah?" he replied, tossing one book aside because it only contained the author's theory.

"We have a problem." With that, he turned the book so Shawn could see it, showing the eighteen potential victims and thirty different suspects. "Some people believe that he killed anywhere from four to nine women," he continued, "And they can't even seem to agree on the same victims."

Shawn stared at Gus' book with wide eyes. "This may take longer than I thought."

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Nothing bugs me more in a true crime book about an unsolved case then an author claiming that their theory is the solution. Not only are they not quite as informative as they could be, but most of the theories conveniently leave out crucial bits of evidence that point to the contrary. Urgh!


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